What Would She Think?
by ronsbabiesmomma
Summary: Post War. Harry has lost himself in angsty turmoil over loosing so many people. Especially the love of his life. Very mild H/Hr but it's only there if you turn your head to the west and squint one eye.


A/N: I noticed I had only written one H/Hr not counting my trio fic… and thought I should fix that seeing as H/Hr is my favorite ship!! Anyway I don't own anything. And I apologize if this is lame. I wrote it in about five minutes while in my pajamas avoiding doing my online course. Haha.

Harry lie awake watching the woman next to him breath deeply in sleep. She was beautiful he supposed, blonde, nice shapely body, the most gorgeous ass he had ever seen… but she still wasn't her. She still wasn't Ginny; she was a bit too perfect for his liking. Ginny had that adorable way of blushing whenever he complemented her; she used to separate her flavored beans into groups of the same color before eating them, throwing away the nasty flavors, she was painfully shy about her body, even after making love, and her kisses were the most amazing he had ever experienced.

He bit his lip and shut his eyes tight. No he wasn't going to cry, Ginny wouldn't want that. But she wouldn't want this either. Using his status 'the boy who lived' to get sex. More like 'the boy who breathed'. Yeah he had survived; yeah he had defeated Voldemort but he had stopped living the moment she had. He rolled over, thinking about Ginny, her flowery scent, her beautiful laugh. The girl snuggled up to him more.

He rolled out of bed, not bothering to put any clothes on. The floor was cold under his bare feet, he headed toward the kitchen. The bottle of Firewhiskey was still open on the counter, he picked it up and took a long swig, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and dropping the now empty bottle into the rubbish bin. "Fuck." He said simply, walking out onto his balcony. Of course he was rich; there was a reward on Voldemort and every major Death Eater's head. So of course the ministry had given him a hefty reward, along with the Order and Hermione, Ron, and the rest of the Weasley's that survived. But… at what price? Ginny, Dumbledore, Tonks, Percy, and let's not forget the first sacrifice of this war, Cedric Diggory… All dead. All dead in his name, his battle. Harry kicked the rail of his balcony hard, cursing. He went back to his kitchen and opened the fridge, taking out a fresh bottle of Firewhiskey, opening it and taking a long swig. Damn this life. Damn his existence.

The sun was dawning outside; it was time to kick the bimbo out. He went to his room, lying next to her, kissing her neck sweetly. Her eyes fluttered open and she smiled, "Morning."

"I have to be at work in a while." He said.

"Want me to make some breakfast?" The girl, Harry couldn't quite remember her name probably something typical like Brittany, Sarah, or Jessica asked.

Harry was already getting dressed for work, "No sweetie I really have to go. But I'll call you." He wouldn't. She got dressed and left, kissing him goodbye.

He walked out of his flat, walking toward work. He really didn't like using magic all that much anymore. It was magic that started the war, magic that caused all those deaths. He had a muggle job, working at an urban clothing store right down the road from his flat.

Hermione disapproved as always, she said it was beneath him. Really with the Ministry's money, the money from selling number twelve Grimmauld Place, and what was left of his inheritance he didn't have to work another day in his life. But he did to make it all seem normal. Besides, it was a hell of a place to pick up chicks.

After work he headed toward Hermione's flat, taking out his flask and taking a swig, something he had learned from Mad-Eye, another great comrade lost in battle. It was movie night. Every Thursday was movie night. He walked into the cozy home and hung his coat up by the door.

"Is that you Harry?" Hermione called from the kitchen.

"Yeah."

"Make yourself at home."

He always did. He went to the armchair in the corner that was designated just for him, reclining it and closing his eyes. "Harry you're here!!" Ron's voice echoed in his brain.

He grumbled, "Yeah… How's the burrow?"

"What's wrong? Harry have you been drinking again already?"

"What's it to you Ron? I've had a hard life."

"Mate—"

"Don't Ron." Hermione interjected, bringing Harry a cup of coffee.

"Late night last night?" Ron asked.

"Yeah… woke up with some girl. Was pretty. Not sure if she was a witch or muggle but there was an open bottle of firewhiskey on the counter so I guess she was a witch. Then Nancy, that new girl at my job hit on me again. I had to practically beat her away."

"Harry… What would Ginny think?" Ron spat in a haughty tone.

Harry sat up, infuriated. His face turned a deep shade of purple Uncle Vernon would be proud of, "How dare you? How dare you use Ginny's name because of your own jealousy. Ginny is dead Ron, she isn't here to think anything. Or do you forget the night she _died in my fucking arms_!!"

"Of course I remember, you don't think it's hard for me? SHE WAS MY SISTER!!" Ron shook with anger.

Harry got up from his chair and started walking toward the door, "Oh Harry please don't—" It was too late. The door had slammed mid-sentence, "See what you did Ron?" Hermione threw down the dishtowel she was holding and went after Harry. He had already disapparated.

Harry sat on his balcony, his feet over the edge; all it would take was a leap. A leap and all the pain would end, all the suffering, the crap he put his friends through. All of it would be over if he could just get the courage to let go and fall. Suddenly Hermione Apparated onto his balcony, scaring him and almost making him loose his balance.

"Harry… Harry I'd like it if you came back on this side of the rail."

"If it's all the same to you I'd rather not Hermione."

"Well… It's not all the same. Harry please just come inside and talk to me."

Harry carefully maneuvered himself back onto the balcony and walked into his living room, picking up the bottle of Firewhiskey again and taking a long swig before falling onto his couch, burying his head into the cushions.

"Harry—"

"Please ((hiccup)) don't give me ((hiccup)) your sympathy, I don't deserve it. ((Hiccup)) I promise." Harry mumbled.

"Harry you weren't the only one there that night."

"But I was the reason anyone was there Hermione, ((hiccup)) I was the reason Ginny came to fight, ((hiccup)) and I was the reason that bitch Lestrange tortured her. It's my entire fault, this whole war—"

"This whole war was not your fault. It was Voldemort's, he is the one that started killing, and he is the one that made himself 'The Dark Lord'. He is the reason for all that happened Harry, not you. If you want closure, then go after his cronies, go after them and lock them up, make them receive the Dementor's kiss. Kill Lestrange with your own hands if you think that will make it even. Ginny would want you to fight for what's right. She would want the world to be a better place. She would not approve of you crying, moping around and drinking every night."

Harry didn't answer; he was snoring heavily and drooling a little. Hermione sighed and covered him up with a blanket and left him there.


End file.
